


Y'all Fucked Up (And Now I'm Getting Fucked)

by HakeberHooligan



Series: Kinktober 2019 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Kinktober 2019, M/M, Sex Pollen, a light layer of various kinks, but nothing too far out there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 20:51:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20895932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HakeberHooligan/pseuds/HakeberHooligan
Summary: Fuck fuckfuck.This isbad.“We don’t need to research,”Peter said.“We’ll just tear its throat out,”Derek growled.“You’re safe with us,”Scott promised.And yet, here Stiles and Chris are, running back to the SUV while the pack dissolves into little more than an orgy with far too many pointy things that don’t belong in sexy times. Namely, claws and fangs.- - -OR, the Pack is too hasty in dealing with an incubus, and it bites them in the ass.Written for the Kinktober 2019 day 4 prompt, aphrodisiacs.





	Y'all Fucked Up (And Now I'm Getting Fucked)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! I hadn't originally planned on partaking in Kinktober (Stetopher week is right around the corner!), but then I saw the aphrodisiac prompt and thought, _'why the hell not'._ I put a bit of a spin on it, and added some plot because I'm a stickler like that. I also threw in a few other kinks, but nothing too heavy. This is my first kink-centric-ish fic, and definitely out of my comfort zone, but I took the leap and really enjoyed writing it. I hope y'all enjoy reading it!
> 
> _If anyone is curious, this is the prompts list I used!_
> 
> _https://queerfictionwriter.tumblr.com/post/187634746516/kinktober-2019_

Fuck fuck _ fuck. _ This is _ bad. _

_ “We don’t need to research,” _ Peter said. 

_ “We’ll just tear its throat out,” _Derek growled.

_ “You’re safe with us,” _ Scott promised.

And yet, here Stiles and Chris are, running back to the SUV while the pack dissolves into little more than an orgy with far too many pointy things that don’t _ belong _in sexy times. Namely, claws and fangs.

Because apparently incubi can enthrall _ werewolves. _ You know what would have told them that? Research. Fucking _ research. _But nooo, we were just going to tear it’s throat out! That plan promptly went out the window when Derek got within five feet of the beast.

The incubus had wasted no time, spitting out a mouthful of Latin followed by a harsh cackle of laughter, stopping everyone in their tracks. Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine, but was unaffected otherwise. Chris appeared to be fine as well. The rest of the pack however, all wolves, were very _ obviously _ affected.

“Christopher, get Stiles _ out of here,” _Peter had growled, turning to them with glowing eyes and dropped fang. Chris didn’t need to be told twice. He shot the incubus dead between the eyes before grabbing Stiles by the neck of his shirt and forcefully pulling him away, just as the others started mauling one another.

“Wait!” Stiles cried, afraid for his friends. But then he realized that they weren’t attacking one another. They were… kissing? Oh god. Stiles decided right then to follow Chris. He’ll have the image of Scott licking up Derek’s throat while Peter ground into him from behind seared into his mind until the end of time.

They weren’t gentle with each other either. In the several seconds that Stiles had watched in horror before taking off, he saw Erica slice through Boyd’s shirt with her claws. She caught more than fabric. Boyd had hissed in pain, but his cuts were already healing and he had a crazed grin on his face. 

He also hadn’t missed the way that Peter had dug his claws into Derek’s hips, sandwiching Scott between them. Derek didn’t seem bothered by the blood that soaked his pants, though.

If Chris and Stiles has been caught in that? They’d be dead in minutes.

They reach the SUV, and Stiles doesn’t even have his door closed before Chris is peeling out, tearing out of the Preserve like a bat outta hell.

Stiles doesn’t realize until now that he’s shaking.

“Do you think… Are they...?” He swallows thickly.

“They’ll be fine,” Chris says, reaching over the center console to grip Stiles’ knee. The contact is surprisingly settling, and Stiles lets out a sigh of relief, sinking into his seat.

“I’ve seen that spell before.” Chris continues, giving his knee a gentle squeeze. “Killing the incubus won’t cancel it out, but now it can’t consume the sexual energy and kill them. Once they… get it out of their systems, they’ll be okay.”

Chris shifts his hand further up Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles snorts.

“Yeah, physically maybe. Mentally? Who knows. I saw a Hale sandwich with McCall filling back there.” He grabs Chris’ hand with his own, shuddering dramatically to show just how _ not okay _seeing that was.

He drags Chris’ hand to his crotch and groans, dropping his head back and grinding up into his palm. Chris responds by pressing down a bit with the heel of his palm.

“So when will it wear off? When will they be back to normal?” Stiles asks breathlessly, his dick rapidly filling. Chris pulls the SUV over to the side of the road.

“Ten minutes, an hour? Maybe just until they finish.” He slams the car into park and reaches over with his left hand to grab Stiles by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in and delivering a stinging bite to his neck. Stiles moans and tilts his head to give him maximum access.

“Fuck, Chris,” Stiles sighs.

_ Wait. _

“Fuck, Chris!” He yelps, shoving the older man’s hand off of his junk and practically kicking the door open in his haste to exit the vehicle.

He was just grinding into Chris _ fucking _Argent’s hand. And he didn't even realize it? What the fuck.

“Stiles! I’m so sorry,” Chris stresses, rounding the front of the car. He marches right up into Stiles’ personal space, placing a hand on his nape and pulling him into a bruising kiss.

Stiles kisses him back feverishly, loving the way Chris’ stubble pricks at his skin. He lets his hands explore, snaking them up the bottom hem of Chris’ shirt and tracing the lines of his muscles with his fingers.

Stiles pulls away, gasping for breath.

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean to.” He says. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, hand must’ve have slipped,” Chris agrees, grabbing duel handfuls of Stiles’ ass and hefting him up. Stiles wraps his legs around his waist, and Chris presses him up against the SUV. His obvious erection presses into Stiles’ inner thigh at an odd angle.

“Fuck, you’re harder than fucking steel,” Stiles giggles, squiggling in an attempt to stop the damn thing from stabbing into his soft flesh.

“Oops,” Chris is giggling too, which is such an unexpected noise coming from the older man that Stiles snaps back to reality.

“Put me down!” He squawks, pushing at Chris’ shoulders. Chris gasps and drops him flat on his ass, which fucking _ hurts. _

“Shit! The incubus, its spell must have his us too,” Chris growls, stepping back and running a hand through his hair in frustration. “It must be effecting us different than the pack. I don’t know- we _ can’t _ touch. Stiles, do _ not _touch me.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Stiles huffs, like it’s a given. Because it _ is _a given. He’s not going to fuck Chris Argent, okay? Only in his wildest fantasies does he do unspeakable things to the man.

He cocks his head and gives Chris a quizzical look, then bursts out laughing.

“What?” Chris says, a smile tugging at the edge of his mouth.

Stiles walks up to him and hikes his shirt up, grabbing the gun holster that’s hitched around his waist. It’s skewed, and the gun is sitting low, close to his crotch.

“You weren’t happy to see me. You had a gun in your pants!”

Chris bursts out laughing, clutching Stiles’ shoulders for support. Stiles laughs with him, holding onto Chris’ hips. He feels giddy, happy and carefree. Everything just feels _ right, _you know? 

He unbuckles Chris’ holster, letting it fall to the ground. Then he undoes his pants, and Chris is still chuckling while he steps out of them.

Stiles can’t help the grin that spreads across his face, pulling his shirt over his head. He feels hands at his pants, and then he’s kicking off his shoes and stepping out of those too.

They’re left in just their boxers, and Stiles shivers. Chris is quick to warm him though, pressing their bodies close together, peppering him with kisses in between chuckles. Stiles moans into his mouth and allows himself to be walked backwards. He bumps into the SUV, and Stiles turns around to open the door. Once it’s open, he goes to turn around but Chris grabs hold of his hips and pushes him forward into the back seat. Stiles obliges with a giggle, crawling in on his hands and knees.

Chris is right there behind him, left knee on the seat and right foot in the footwell, and he grinds against Stiles’ ass. Stiles keens and pushes back into what he knows is an actual honest-to-god cock, not a _ fucking _ gun.

Chris’ fingers play at the waistband of his boxers, pulling them away before letting it slip, snapping at Stiles’ skin. The sting makes Stiles groan, pressing back, seeking more.

“Chris… I can’t…” Stiles doesn’t finish the sentence. He knows what’s happening, knows it’s that fucking spell, but he can’t really find it in himself to care. Can’t remember why they _ shouldn’t. _

“I know, kid. I can’t either.” Chris’ voice sounds strained, like he’s trying to fight it. But _ why? _His fingers dig into Stiles’ hips, and he can tell that Chris is desperately trying not to rut against him.

And that? Well, that just won’t do.

“Need you,” Stiles whimpers, dropping to his chest and reaching back between his legs to grab Chris’ balls through his boxers. Chris groans, must finally give in, because he reaches over the back of the seat and pulls a lever, making it dop down. _ Oh. _There’s so much more space now, and Stiles likes not feeling so cramped.

Then Chris is leaning over Stiles and nibbling on his shoulder.

“Gonna be good for Daddy?” Chris asks in a low, husky voice. Stiles whines, pushing himself up on elbows, and nods vigorously.

_ “Words, _baby boy,” Chris coaxes.

“Yes!” Stiles bites out, writhing underneath Chris. He needs _ more. _ Chris doesn’t move though.

“Yes, _ what?” _He prompts. Stiles lets out a noise of frustration.

“Yes, _ Daddy,” _ he emphasizes. And just like that, Chris starts moving. He kisses a trail down Stiles’ back until his mouth is at his boxer band. Stiles feels the scrape of teeth and Chris is pulling his boxers down with his _ mouth. _Stiles groans and drops back to his chest, curling his arms beneath himself. He puts all of his focus on keeping himself propped up on his knees.

“Underneath the driver’s seat,” Chris says, and Stiles flings and arm out to pat underneath the seat. He feels a box, and pulls it out. It’s a first aid kit. Chris bites into Stiles’ left ass cheek, and he drops the box.

“The blue foil packet,” Chris says, getting Stiles back on track. He grabs the box and props himself up on one elbow, dumping out the contents on the seat in front of him. He pushes through the mess until he finds a packet of-

“Surgical lube?” Stiles laughs. He almost faceplants onto a pair of forceps in his unbridled glee.

“Hand it over, baby.” Chris taps at his arm, and he obediently gives it to him. Chris tears the edge and pours the entire packet between Stiles cheeks, and Stiles yelps at the cold sensation.

“Couldn’t warm it up between your hands first?” He complains.

Chris just chuckles, sending shivers down Stiles’ spine when he runs his fingers through the mess, ghosting over his hole.

“Want me to warm it up for you, baby?” Chris presses the tip of his thumb against Stiles’ hole, and Stiles gasps. A part of him wants to pull away from the intrusion, but most of him wants to sit back and spear himself on the digit.

“Yes,” He pleads, trying to lean back. Chris follows the movement though, and doesn’t let Stiles sink onto him.

“Yes _ what, _baby boy?”

“We’re going to have a serious conversation about your problematic kinks later, _ Daddy.” _

Despite the sass, he’s rewarded. Chris slowly presses into him. Stiles fists his dick, getting a few strokes in before Chris slaps his hand away.

“Hands above your head.” He says it with an air of authority, and Stiles immediately obeys. He crosses them under his head and rests his forehead against his forearms, swiveling his hips in an attempt to capture more of Chris’ thumb.

“Impatient little thing, aren’t we?” Chris murmurs, pulling his thumb out almost all the way before pushing it in a little deeper, slowly fucking Stiles with it.

“More, Daddy!” Stiles cries out after a long minute. He’s going to lose his fucking mind if Chris keeps the pace slow and steady.

“Well, since you asked so nicely…” Stiles feels him slick up his other thumb before pushing it in next to the first one, kneeding the globes of his ass and giving them a firm squeeze. Stiles gasps, loving the stretch. It stings and aches and feels _ so fucking good. _Chris takes his time, presses into him and pulls at the tight ring of muscle, stretching Stiles until he feels like he’s gaping.

“Fuck, Chris. Just fucking _ fuck _ me already. I need _ more.” _Stiles is a panting mess. It’s been minutes or hours, maybe even days. All he knows is his dick is so hard it hurts and he needs some relief.

“But you look so pretty, pulled open on my thumbs,” Chris pouts, actually _ pouts, _and Stiles knows because he’s picked up his head to look back at him.

“Stop teasing Daddy,” he pleads, using the title that he’s quickly learned gets him his way. Chris finally looks up from where he’s holding Stiles open, and must see the desperation in his eyes, because his features soften.

“Okay, baby boy. Gonna fill you with my cock now.”

When the head pushes in, Stiles feels like he could cry. As it is, his breath hitches and tears roll down his face. Chris slowly presses forward, and Stiles feels like his breath is being punched out of him. The sensation is unlike anything he’s ever felt. Sure, he’s used toys before, even fingered himself a few times, but nothing compares to feeling Chris’ hot cock sliding into him, filling him up.

Chris works himself in and out, feeding Stiles a bit more of his cock with every gentle thrust. He doesn’t slam in, or selfishly use Stiles. He’s taking _ care _ of him. Stiles feels a swell of emotion for the man, and he doesn’t know if it’s always been there, or if it’s because of the spell, or if it’s simply because he’s currently buried in Stiles’ ass. Either way, hands and knees are suddenly too impersonal. He needs to _ touch _ Chris. Needs to _ see _him.

“Stop,” He croaks, and Chris immediately stills.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, voice laced with concern.

“No, I… I need to see you.” Stiles feels like he doesn’t do a very good job of explaining, but Chris understands. He pulls out, and Stiles whines at the loss. He feels empty, incomplete. He quickly flips over, wrapping his legs around Chris and pulling down to kiss him passionately. Chris is just as eager, nudging at Stiles’ lips with his tongue until he opens them, then licking into his mouth.

He arches his back and pushes an arm between them, lining himself back up and sinking into Stiles with one easy, fluid movement. Stiles whimpers, clutching to Chris and throwing his head back. Chris takes the opportunity to lay worship to his throat, leaving kisses, licks, and nips across the sensitive flesh.

When Chris’ hips sit flush against Stiles, he acknowledges it with a sense of awe. Chris seems to be thinking the same thing, because his breath hitches and he stops moving. Stiles whines and squirms, bucking Chris into action. He pulls his hips back until just the head is in, then pushes forward again.

Stiles sees stars. The feeling is unreal. Chris stops once more when he bottoms out, and Stiles will do _ anything _to feel that again. He ducks his head and nuzzles in close.

“Fuck me, _ Daddy,” _ he whispers against the shell of Chris’ ear. Chris’ entire body shudders, and he pulls back again, pushing back in with a little more force.

“Harder Daddy!” Stiles whines. Chris pulls free of Stiles’ embrace to sit up above him, a salacious grin playing on his lips.

“Say it again.” He demands, running his hands up and down Stiles’ sides. Stiles isn’t in the mood for games though, he’s in the mood to be thoroughly fucked.

“Da-dee,” He deliberately enunciates the syllables. “I’d like you to fuck me until I’m screaming, please.”

Chris’ grin turns predatory, and it thrills Stiles. He drags his hands up Stiles’ sides, over his arms and to his wrists. He grips them tight before forcing them over his head, pinning them to the seat. Stiles twists his arms, testing his hold. It’s tight and he’d really have to fight to break free.

He loves it.

“Want daddy to fuck you hard, make you scream, make you cry with pleasure?”

“Please!” Stiles gasps, arching his back in an attempt to get any skin contact at all.

Chris leans back down and delivers a crushing kiss. At the same time, he pulls out and then snaps his hips forward. The movement jolts Stiles, and he yelps. Chris swallows down the sound, never breaking the kiss. He repeats the movement, and falls into a punishing rhythm.

Stiles is riding a line of pleasure/pain and he can’t think straight. His wrists ache, his ass aches, and is it possible for his insides to ache too? The warring feelings are mind numbing. Nothing in the world matters but Chris’ hands on his wrist, Chris’ lips on his lips, Chris’ cock in his ass.

Chris breaks the kiss, but doesn’t stop the brutal pace he’s set. He trails one hand down Stiles arm and wraps it around his throat. He adds just enough pressure that Stiles strains to breath for a few seconds, then eases up, but he keeps his hand there. 

Stiles is babbling now, anything to keep Chris going at the pace he is. He loves the feel of Chris’ hand against his voice box when he speaks, and he keeps up a litany of filth. 

“Fuck, Daddy, yes! Don’t stop, just like that, fuck fuck _ fuck!” _

Chris lets him babble, doesn’t look annoyed, or interrupt him, or tell him to shut up. Stiles finds it endearing. His brain fog seems to be fading, and he’s realizing that he finds a lot of things about Chris endearing.

He stops his mindless babble mid sentence, and he’s hit with utter clarity. It’s like a freight train. He didn’t realize how clouded his mind was until it suddenly wasn’t. Anxiety starts to bubble up in his chest.

Chris Argent is fucking him.

Fucking Chris _ fucking _ Argent is fucking _ fucking _him.

“Chris.” His voice cracks, sounds broken. Because this is a big deal, right? Being fucked by the guy who you’ve had a low key crush on for years now?

Chris seems to be coming out of his haze too, and his movements stutter.

“Fuck, Stiles, I- _ fuck.” _He looks like he’s ripping himself in two when he pauses, cock buried halfway into Stiles, like he’s trying to decide if he should push in or pull out. He lets go of Stiles and sits up. Stiles hooks his ankles together from where they’re wrapped around Chris’ waist before he makes the noble choice, trapping him.

“Don’t stop, please,” He begs. If Chris stops fucking him right now, he’s absolutely sure he’ll die. The enthrallment has faded completely, and all he’s left with is conflicted emotions. But what stands out the clearest is that he _ wants _this.

“Stiles, you need to let me go. The incubus, it’s the spell-”

Chris tries pulling away, and Stiles lets loose a particularly impressive growl for a human. He tightens his hold with his legs and grabs Chris by the nape, hauling him down and kissing him. Chris fights it initially, but it's half hearted at best.

“That wasn’t the incubus,” Stiles says against his lips. Then he swivels his hips, Chris’ cock sinking into him a bit. Chris’ eyes flutter closed and he bites back a moan. “That wasn’t the incubus either.”

Stiles grasps Chris’ hand and guides it back to his neck.

“This? I’ve had this kink for a while now.” Chris loses his composure and smiles, just a little. Stiles grins back, pulling his hand from his neck to brush his lips across the knuckles. “How about we pretend like we’re still enthralled, and we can deal with the particulars after? I mean, your cock is already buried in my ass, and I’m getting blue balls over here. I think we mutually deserve it. Don’t you,_ Daddy?” _

He bats his eyes at Chris, and he can see the man’s resolve crumble. Can see how his eyes sharpen at the word _ daddy. _So that’s a Chris thing, not an incubus thing. Interesting.

“I think if baby boy thinks he deserves it, who am I to say no?” Chris drops his hand back to Stiles’ throat and gives it a light squeeze. Stiles’ dick throbs. “I think I mentioned fucking you until you scream?”

\- - -

Three days later, everyone finally meets up at the loft. Yes, it really took that long to get them all in the same room again. None of the wolves can look each other in the eye. Peter is the only one who appears unaffected, looking more smug than a pig in shit. Which is pretty telling, considering Stiles knows for a fact that he let his nephew mount him like a bitch in heat. No one should look that pleased about being fucked a _ family member. _

Stiles is getting second-hand embarrassment from the rest of the pack however, and it’s souring his good mood. He still basking in the afterglow of fucking Chris _ fucking _Argent.

He rolls his eyes at the painful half-conversations that the pack try to have, and catches Chris’ eye across the loft. Chris gives him a wink, but makes no other acknowledgment. They haven’t spoken since that night, and it rankles Stiles.

So he decides that he’s done waiting for Chris to make the first move. He pulls out his phone and texts Chris: _ If I’m a good boy, will Daddy fuck my brains out again tonight? _

He watches until Chris grabs his beer, then hits send. As expected, Chris is taking a long swig when his phone dings and he glances at it. He chokes on his beer, spitting out his mouthful and coughing.

“Everything okay there, Chris?” Stiles asks innocently, barely able to contain his mirth. Chris glares at him, but there's no venom in the look. Stiles busts out laughing, and everyone else stares at him in confusion.

“What’s gotten into you, Stilinski?” Erica asks in amusement.

That only makes Stiles laugh harder to the bewilderment of the entire pack, save one.

What’s gotten into him? More like _ who. _

  


**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr!
> 
> https://hakeberhooligan.tumblr.com/


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